


Mine to Take

by BlackRose



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRose/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Michaelis runs faster than the swiftest horse in London....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine to Take

Sebastian Michaelis runs faster than the swiftest horse in London. 

He knows this, just as surely he knows he cannot possibly run fast enough. 

 

The streets are all dark at this time of night, silent and oddly empty for this part of town. Even the streetwalkers are few tonight; perhaps they can sense the chill wind of his passing, and it drives an evil shudder into their bones. All the better; he cannot afford to be distracted from his mission now. 

The windows in the doctor's house are all darkened; the maids inside have put out the lamps. Sebastian grins maliciously as he yanks at the bellrope, sending a sleepy-eyed stableboy tumbling out of a stall and shambling up to the gate. 

"Go in and wake your master, boy. Tell him he's needed at the Phantomhive estate; the maid has been thrown from a carriage."

The ginger-headed youth blinks stupidly, but a flash of fangs from Sebastian sends him racing inside to do as commanded. Sebastian watches from outside as candles flare alight within, and above, curtains part, a pale face staring down. It vanishes seconds later, and in minutes the same groom returns and leads a saddled horse into the yard. The doctor is a tall and lanky man; younger than Sebastian had expected. Good. Somehow that reassures him. His black bag is in hand as he pulls himself astride, nudging the balky mare towards the gate. The mare whinnies and shies, tossing her head up in instinctive dislike of the demon. 

"Thrown, you say, sir?"

"Yessir. Sometime this afternoon; it was not discovered until an hour ago. We believe the cart went over her. She lingers, but is in a bad way."

Sebastian recalls the obscenely bright smear above and below Maylene's body; why was human blood so needlessly garish? It was almost vulger, in a way. From the grinding clicks when he lifted her, and the shallow wheezing as she fought to breathe it was clear some ribs were broken. Her polished shoes pointed the wrong way....

The doctor wastes no time; he sidles the mare up alongside Sebastian and reaches down to him.

"Come on. We've no time to spare for Sam to ready another mount for you."

The question of how he came to be in the center of London from a mile outside town in less than an hour, on foot, wisely goes unasked. Sebastian lets himself be taken up behind, and holds onto the young doctor as the mare snorts and crowhops. Then they're off, clattering away down the cobbled streets. Come-along, come-along, come-along, clops the hoofbeats, and, you're-too-late, you're-too-late, you're-too-late, laughs the cold stones in reply. As they go along Sebastian can't help looks back over his shoulder, dreading to see a glimpse of fiery hair and huge scissors flashing in the streetlamps. 

Because Sebastian Michaelis runs faster than the swiftest horse in London.

But even he cannot outrun Death.


End file.
